


Wherever Is Your Heart (I Call Home)

by Patchwork_Author



Category: Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Found Family, Post-Canon, helena in leather pants and dinah in a power suit YEAH you read that right kids, kind of??, there's no sex but it is sexY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:29:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26261182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Patchwork_Author/pseuds/Patchwork_Author
Summary: Dinah and Helena get roped into pretending to be Cass's legal guardians thanks to one little prank from Harley. The thing is...domesticity looks good on them.AKA Dinah and Helena finding domesticity together post-Bop and the Birds being the weirdest and best found family ever.
Relationships: Helena Bertinelli/Dinah Lance
Comments: 16
Kudos: 196





	Wherever Is Your Heart (I Call Home)

**Author's Note:**

> I had this image of Helena in leather pants and Dinah in a power suit and this story was born. And then it became really soft??? And then I couldn't figure out an ending so it sat in my drafts for four months. Whoops? Anyway, it's here now. God bless leather pants.

Cass really should know better by now, Dinah thinks. Dinah, apparently, thinks wrong. Because Cass comes barreling into the warehouse one day in the afternoon and shouts, “I need help!”

Of course, within five seconds, Renee, Helena and Dinah are all downstairs, guns and crossbows drawn, ready to wreck whoever the hell thought it would be a good idea to mess with Cassandra Cain.

She’s standing in the doorway, backpack still on, holding out a piece of crumpled paper that she fished out of her back pocket.

“Damn,” Cass says, like _they’re_ inconveniencing her, “can’t you guys ever just like, chill?”

They all drop out of their combat stances and Helena snaps the safety on her crossbow.

“Jesus, Cassandra,” Renee says, “how many times do we have to tell you – start with the problem, don’t just go shouting for help around here.”

Cass shrugs, hopping onto the couch in the living room before shrugging out of her backpack and kicking her feet up. The three adults trail after her.

“What’s going on?” Dinah asks, nudging Cass so she remembers to take her shoes off before putting her feet on the couch.

Cass shrugs, pulls a twizzler from one of her many pockets and hands Dinah the paper. “Parent-teacher conferences are coming up.”

Renee groans.

“What’s that?” Helena asks.

“You don’t wanna know,” Dinah and Renee say in unison.

“Why don’t you ask Harley?” Renee says before pausing to hold up a hand. “Wait a minute, just heard myself. Yep, got it. When do you need me there?”

“You can’t go!” Cass says.

Dinah exchanges a look with Renee. “Why not?”

“First of all,” Cass says, counting off on her fingers, “they’d recognize you. You’re a cop–”

“– _was_ a cop.”

“Whatever, you’ve been on the news! Secondly, did you guys even _look_ at the papers Harley sent to the school?”

Dinah shifts. None of them had really had the time, what with all of the crime-fighting. None of them had felt good about sending Cass back into the system, and figured her bouncing between them wasn’t the worst way for her to spend the last few years before she went to college.

When Harley had offered to forge some paperwork to get Cass into one of the private schools (not prep, because they didn’t want her with the stuffy assholes and mafia kids, but, shit, the kid was smart and they wanted her to get the education she deserved) Renee had grumbled a bit but they figured it wasn’t the worst illegal thing they’d ever done.

So Cass went to a good school, and the Birds went to work and none of them asked any questions aside from the usual ‘how was school today’, ‘what did you do’ and ‘do you need help with your homework?’

Dinah dug around for the paper (they did save it, they aren’t completely irresponsible) and groaned.

“Harley, what the fuck,” she said. Cass’s guardians were listed as one Mrs. and Mrs. Lance.

“She said you were the only one who could show your face at the school,” Cass shrugged. “Except for like, pick-up and drop off. And she said it was a joke. She didn’t think it would matter.”

“Yeah, that’s cause Harley didn’t go to some rich-ass private school,” Dinah grumbled. These people were invested in their student’s home lives, if only for donation purposes. Dinah didn’t have to go to one to know that.

“Dinah you gotta go,” Cass says. “At my last school, whenever my foster–”

“I’ll go,” Dinah says, because she doesn’t even want to know what Cass’s different foster parents had done over the years. She wasn’t them. “I don’t know where the hell I’m supposed to dig up a wife in 24 hours but–”

“Take Helena,” Renee calls.

Helena’s head whips up. “ _What?_ ”

“Yeah, what?” Dinah asks, staring at Renee like she’s lost her goddamn mind. Dinah happens to know Renee is sober right now so what the hell is she thinking?

“Look, you can’t take me, and you sure as hell can’t show up to that school with Harley Quinn,” Renee says, and Dinah can’t argue there. “Helena is here, do you know any other women who can show up tomorrow night? Who _would_? And who can actually talk about Cass like they know her?”

Dinah looks at Helena. Honestly, she’d already had the idea. But the thing is, she knows Helena. Going to a school? Going to a school to talk to teachers and pretend to be a parent? She’s not sure that’s something Helena would ever, in a million years, be comfortable with.

“It’s fine,” Dinah says. “I’ll just make up some excuse–”

“I’ll go,” Helena says. She looks at Dinah, nods once. “I’ll do it.”

“You sure?” Dinah asks.

Helena offers her the barest twitch of a smile. They’ve learned to read each other pretty well by now. It’s been a few months of them hooking up whenever they get the chance and they’ve kept it quiet not because it’s some casual fling (it’s not), but because they want to be able to figure it out on their own, without Renee or Harley butting their heads in.

Dinah can admit that the idea of seeing Helena dressed up, playing the part of a rich Gothamite parent…well, it’s not wholly unappealing.

“Great, congratulations to the happy couple. Enjoy a night of torture,” Renee says.

:::

“Hey, Helena, you ready to–oh.”

Dinah stops talking when she sees Helena.

They’re getting changed in the warehouse, into more appropriate clothing for a parent teacher conference, for the roles they’re supposed to be filling. Dinah finished first, and she’s been getting restless.

But this?

“What?” Helena asks. “Is this not…Renee picked it up and I–”

Dinah steps right into Helena’s space, pulls her down for a kiss that isn’t exactly kid-friendly, but they don’t actually have a kid, and the kid they _do_ have isn’t around so Dinah doesn’t feel bad about it. She has half a mind to slip her tongue into Helena’s mouth but they’re already almost late, and if they start now, they’ll never leave.

Dinah can admit, grudgingly, that Renee did good. Really good. Helena looks like a hot Gotham socialite. Classy and yet gorgeous all at once. And she still looks, kind of, like Helena. She’s got some plain, slightly billowing blouse on, but the _pants_ , **_god_**. Renee got her some expensive-ass-looking leather pants.

Dinah wouldn’t trade who Helena is for the world, but that doesn’t mean she can’t appreciate the look.

“Do I look like a mom?” Helena deadpans.

“First of all, we’re foster moms, I think,” Dinah says, trying to remember the paperwork, “and secondly–” she steals another kiss, “like a very hot mom, sure.”

“You’re one to talk,” Helena says, eyes dropping down to drink in Dinah and god, they really need to leave now if they’re ever going to get out of here.

Still, Dinah can’t quite stop herself, taking half a step back so Helena can look at the black power-suit Dinah is donning. There’s a low sound in the back of Helena’s throat and Dinah laughs, taking her hand.

“Come on, Killer, let’s go.”

They walk outside and Helena starts to walk towards her motorcycle. Dinah stops walking and when Helena notices, she looks confused.

“What?” she asks.

“We’re not taking your bike to the school, H.”

“Oh,” Helena says. She looks at her bike forlornly. “I guess that does make sense.”

She’s pouting. Dinah is sure she’d deny it but Helena is absolutely, completely _pouting_. Dinah has to bite down on her lip to keep from laughing. She just looks so goddamn cute, and seeing someone as badass and lethal as Helena look cute is still something Dinah isn’t completely used to.

Dinah steps up to her, brushes a strand of hair out of her face and pushes up onto her toes to kiss her.

“I’ll ride with you whenever you want, baby,” she says. “But we’ve gotta be responsible tonight, unfortunately.”

Helena’s pout deepens, and it only breaks when Dinah kisses her one more time. Then Dinah takes Helena’s hands in hers and guides her towards her car.

:::

Helena has a number of useful skills. She can hit her mark with a crossbow from 20 feet away, if not more. She once completed a mission perfectly with a concussion. She’d given herself stitches multiple times. She has an impressively high pain tolerance. She can speak at least four languages, and read a few more.

And yet here she is, standing in front of a school, feeling overwhelmed.

She clenches her fists. Then opens them. Then clenches again.

Being overwhelmed is foolish. Feeling foolish only makes her feel more overwhelmed. And feeling overwhelmed only makes her feel more foolish, and–

It’s a vicious cycle.

Dinah sidles up next to her, taking Helena’s hand in hers, and kisses Helena’s cheek. Looking at Dinah dressed like that is also overwhelming, but it’s a good kind. It’s also a kind that Helena is quickly becoming familiar with.

She doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of looking at Dinah.

“Alright, baby, let’s do this.”

Dinah leads the way inside, and thankfully she keeps her hand firmly intertwined with Helena, pulling her along.

Helena feels better with Dinah at her side. Not just now, but always. It’s true for the others, too (with the exception of maybe Harley, but even she has her moments), but it’s especially true of Dinah. In a fight or when she’s injured – she wants Dinah with her. They make a good team.

Helena tries to hold onto that. They make a good team. If they can put away bad guys together, there’s no way this can be any harder. Right?

The school isn’t quite as snotty or extravagant as she remembers Gotham Academy Elementary being, but it’s still nice. The school crest is embedded in the wooden floor of the entry foyer. There are wide, grand, spiraling stairs leading to the second floor. There are posters of happy, over-achieving children everywhere she looks.

Not for the first time, Helena is a little bit grateful for her weird upbringing. She’s not sure how well she would’ve fared in Gotham if _this_ was the tamer of the private schools.

“Do you think Cass is doing okay here?” she asks suddenly. Dinah looks at her and Helena flushes. “Cass hasn’t had a normal childhood. I know what that’s like. And I wasn’t in normal school long, but kids are mean. Kids are mean to _me_ , even now, and I’m _scary_. Cass…”

Dinah squeezes her hand. “We can ask her. But if anyone can handle themselves, it’s Cass,” she says. Then she smirks. “And the next time kids are being mean to you, let me know. I’ll kick their asses for you.”

“I can handle that part.”

“I think we both know that you’re not going to kick some kid’s ass,” Dinah says.

“And you are?” Helena asks.

Dinah just shrugs, gives her a wink, and then they’re at the headmaster’s door.

The door is closed, and there are seats outside, so they both settle in to wait for their appointment. Helena sits ramrod straight in her seat, even while Dinah is sprawled next to her (Renee once told Dinah that she ‘sits so fucking gay’ and Helena doesn’t know exactly what that means, but she knows that Dinah does, somehow, make sitting hot, so maybe Renee is right) and she tries, she really tries, to relax.

She tries to relax, tries not to stare at Dinah in that fucking suit, and she’s trying so hard to do, or not do, so many things that it feels like only a few seconds later, the door is swinging open.

Dinah and Helena rise in synchronicity, met with the surprised faces of some WASP-y looking couple coming out, who look too put together, looking friendly in a way that’s so exaggerated it makes them look mean, and reminds Helena so much not of her family, exactly, but of the parents at Gotham Academy that she wants to break out in hives.

“So sorry,” the wife says, not really looking at Dinah or Helena as she speaks, “We ran a little long.”

“It’s no problem,” Dinah says, “these nights usually run long.”

“Don’t they just?” the wife says. She zeroes in on them, then. “Haven’t seen you around the school before. Are your kids new?”

“Charity–” the man says.

“Sorry, I’m the class mom for the sixth graders, so I know most of the parents,” the woman, Charity, says.

She smiles too wide, Helena’s notices. It’s a predator’s smile.

“Our daughter,” Dinah says, sliding her arm around Helena’s waist, “just started the eighth grade a few months ago.”

There’s a dawning realization on both of their faces. Helena has to stop herself from snorting. It’s just so laughable. This is so stupid, Helena is here for Cass and Cass’s needs only, but…

There is this petty thrill in her. Her wife is cooler, and hotter.

Not her wife. Her girlf– Dinah. _Dinah_ is cooler and hotter. Whatever.

“Mrs. Lance?” the Headmaster calls from her office, and Dinah offers them a smile – as fake as Charity’s but ten times more convincing, Helena thinks – and then they walk into the office, closing the door behind them.

The Headmaster, Dr. Emily Lang, stands to reach across her desk and shake Dinah’s hand, then Helena’s.

“Mrs. and Mrs. Lance, it’s a pleasure to finally put a face to the names,” she says, settling down her seat once more.

“Same for us,” Dinah says. “You can just call me Dinah. And this is my wife Helena.”

“Lovely names,” Dr. Lang muses, making a note on a piece of paper.

Helena suddenly feels like she’s back in school and her throat constricts.

“We are, of course, so delighted to have Cassandra in our school,” Dr. Lang continues. “She’s a very talented child, if a little precocious at times.”

“Believe me,” Dinah says, “we know. Sometimes we feel out of our depth, but Cass is a good kid.”

Dinah, as if she can read Helena’s anxiety, rests her hand on her knee.

“Look, this is just a standard meeting,” Dr. Lang says. “We don’t have any major issues with Cassandra, at the moment. I hear from some of her teacher’s that she’s very talkative, a bit of a class clown. Others say she’s near silent.”

“Are those problems?” Helena says, surprising herself.

She can _feel_ her anger starting to coil inside of her. She doesn’t even know why, but there’s a tone Dr. Lang has that sets Helena on edge. She tries to breathe through it.

“No, not exactly. Not yet. It seems like she’s not yet comfortable, and I don’t want it to hinder her getting the best education possible,” Dr. Lang says.

The idea of comfort is so foreign to Helena, everything she learned was drenched in discomfort – training until her muscles were spent, practicing with her crossbow until her fingers were calloused, drilling different languages into her head. It’s not the life she wants Cass to have. She also decidedly does not want Cass to have to figure this all out on her own.

“She’s still new here,” she says, again surprising herself. “She’s still adjusting. She doesn’t have to be comfortable yet. What are you doing to ensure she has a smooth transition?”

Dinah’s looking at her and there’s something in her eyes, but Helena can’t quite read it. After a moment, Dinah turns back to Dr. Lang.

“The school has counseling services?” she asks. Dr. Lang nods. “If Cass decides she’s interested, we’d like them to made available to her. If you can think of other ways the school can be assisting Cass through this transition, we’d love to know.” 

Dinah’s hand is resting on the inside of Helena’s thigh, her thumb brushing back and forth and it’s more than a little distracting but Helena kind of likes it.

“Absolutely,” Dr. Lang says. “We pride ourselves on taking care of our students and we understand this is a big transition regardless, and Cassandra’s background might exacerbate it.”

“We appreciate the cooperation,” Helena says. “And we’d also appreciate it if, while you acknowledge Cass’s history, you don’t focus on it. Cass isn’t broken. She’s a _child_.”

“Understood.”

They touch on a few other topics – Cass’s grades, mostly – and then they’re all shaking hands again before Dinah and Helena walk towards the exit together.

There is another set of parents waiting outside for them and Helena is struck by how much she and Dinah stand out here. Yes, they look the part of rich Gotham elite who are sending their kid to a good school, but the biggest difference (aside from the fact that they are two women), is that these other parents look so cold and stoic and repressed. They look like they’re _trying_ so hard. To be beautiful, to be cool, or something, Helena isn’t sure.

She knows that she and Dinah look like the real thing, which is absurd considering that they’re likely the fakest people here.

Then again, maybe it’s just a different kind of fake. A better kind.

As soon as they’re outside, Dinah laughs.

“What?” Helena asks.

“Nothing!” Dinah says. Helena looks at her, puzzled, and Dinah laughs again, stepping into her space. “I just kind of loved that.”

Helena stares. “You’re serious? That? You loved _that?_ ”

Dinah leans back against her car, pulls Helena forward. “No, baby, I mean, everyone in there is trying to compete with everyone else. They want to have the hottest wife, the coolest car, the biggest house, the most talented kid. And they’ve been playing that stupid game with each other for _years_.”

“Yeah,” Helena says, still not sure how Dinah could love any part of that.

“And you and I walked in there, and we’re not playing their stupid fucking game, but we’re winning it because I have the hottest wife, and _we_ have the nice car, and the cool kid, and we’re two women, and we don’t even fucking care about them. God, the looks on their faces? I could live off of that shit.”

Helena can’t help it then. She kind of smiles, too, because Dinah’s, right actually. They’re beating those stupid people at their own game and they’re not even really playing.

“Oh,” Helena says. “Okay.”

She also feels a little bit punch-drunk over the sound of Dinah referring to her as her wife, but she keeps that to herself.

“You know what else I loved?” Dinah asks, trailing her fingers up Helena’s arms.

“No?”

Dinah pulls Helena even closer, presses up against her and _fuck_ , they’re in public, they’re at a _school_ , and this isn’t even anything dirty but it’s not exactly appropriate. Helena is struggling to care.

“Love what you’re wearing, obviously,” Dinah says, and dips her hand below the waistband of Helena’s leather pants, then she flicks her gaze up to Helena’s, “but I really loved you going to bat for Cass. It was sweet.” She trails her lips over Helena’s jaw, taking her time. “It was also really, really hot.”

“Oh?” Helena chokes out.

“Yeah,” Dinah says. She presses a teasing kiss to the corner of Helena’s mouth. “Take your wife home?”

Helena fumbles for her keys before remembering that Dinah drove. “You have the keys,” she breathes out.

Dinah grins and steals one slow, dirty kiss from Helena, like she has all the time in the world, like she doesn’t care if anyone sees them, and then she slips past Helena to go around to the driver’s side.

“C’mon, Killer, I’m not feeling really patient tonight,” she says with a teasing lilt.

Helena isn’t feeling terribly patient either.

:::

They start doing Sunday Dinners at the warehouse. Everyone is invited (even Harley, but not Bruce) and Helena cooks.

The reasoning, initially, was that it would help keep up appearances now that Dinah and Helena would actually have to show up at the school once in a while. Also, this way they could catch up on Cass’s week at school on the rare occasion they didn’t see her during the week at all.

They do still talk about school, but it quickly devolved into informal family time.

At least, parts of it are informal. Helena has rules about Sunday dinner.

She’s in charge of cooking, but everyone has jobs to do, even Harley. They sit at the dining room table, not at the coffee table. No elbows on the table. Etc. etc.

Helena was raised a particular way and this was the one thing that was the same here in Gotham and in Sicily. It was also the one part she could share with everyone.

Tonight, Helena is kneading pasta dough as Cass pesters her about taking her to school on the motorcycle (still a firm _no_ ). Dinah is opening the wine to let it breathe, Renee is setting the table. Harley is…somewhere.

There will be more jobs when its time to make the sauce.

“But I’d be so cool!” Cass says.

“You’re cool now,” Helena retorts.

“I’d be cool _er_.”

“Your classmates think you have two moms,” Dinah says, putting the wine bottle somewhere Renee can’t reach it before dinnertime, “what’s cooler than that?”

“A motorcycle,” Cass deadpans.

Cass’s classmates think she has two foster moms, actually, and Helena doesn’t know a lot about kids, but she’s not sure all of them would think that’s cool. She just hopes no one picks on her for it. She doesn’t think they do. She thinks (hopes) they’d know if they did.

“Sorry kid,” Dinah says, wiping flour from Cass’s cheek, “motorcycle rides are for girlfriends only.”

She sneaks up behind Helena, wraps her arms around her and then presses a kiss to the back of Helena’s neck and Cass gags.

“Gross.”

“Hey, be nice to your mothers,” Renee quips.

Helena smiles to herself as she kneads. This is nothing like Sunday dinners at the Bertinelli house, and it’s definitely nothing like Sunday dinners in Sicily.

She absolutely loves it.

Renee is now grilling Cass (lovingly) about her upcoming algebra test, and Harley is in the kitchen now, too, searching for the tools to make some kind of cocktail Helena’s never heard of. Dinah just leans back against the wall among the commotion, and Helena can feel her eyes on her.

“What?” she asks, softly, enough so only Dinah can hear.

“Nothing,” Dinah says. Then she comes close again, presses another kiss to Helena’s jaw. “Love watching you work. Love your hands.”

Helena feels even hotter, then, and she knows it’s not from the stove or the amount of people in the cramped space. It’s Dinah.

It’s all Dinah.

“Don’t tease,” Helena mumbles.

Cass and Harley are going to be here for hours. If Dinah starts now, Helena is gonna be taut as a bow before dinner is even over.

“Oh, no, baby,” Dinah says too seriously. “Never.”

Helena isn’t sure whether to scoff or whine, so she focuses all of her energy on kneading the dough.

By some small miracle, Helena has the focus to finish the pasta and the sauce, and she actually gets dinner on the table at a reasonable time.

Dinah has taken mercy on her, thankfully, and kept her hands to herself. If Helena is being honest, she’s as sad as she is relieved. She likes the feeling of Dinah touching her. Even when it’s not sexual. She likes that too, obviously, but…

Helena spent so many years only being touched when she was sparring. She spent so many years recoiling from touch, and while she’s getting used to Cass’s hugs, and high-fives from Renee…she’s always comfortable with Dinah’s touches. Even when they make her pent up with arousal, she always feels a kind of ease that she’s never felt before.

“Can you cook for me all the time?” Cass asks around a mouthful of pasta.

“What, you gettin’ tired of cereal?” Harley asks. “What about all the takeout?”

Helena does not want to know what Cass’s diet looks like when she’s with Harley. She really doesn’t.

“No,” Cass says with an eye roll. “But this is _amazing._ ”

Helena smiles.

“Seriously, Bertinelli, if you weren’t so good at killing, I’d say you should be a chef,” Renee agrees.

Praise is another thing that’s new for Helena. She doesn’t really know what to do with it, but she likes it.

“Seriously, H,” Dinah says, “if you ever wanna cook more than just one night a week, I won’t complain.”

“Oh please,” Harley says, “we all know you’ll eat whatever Helena spreads out for you.”

Helena chokes on her wine, because she’s _not_ good with innuendos but she’s been learning, and that was not subtle.

“Yeah, I will,” Dinah shoots back casually.

“Jesus Christ, not in front of the kid,” Renee says.

“What?” Cass asks.

“Nothing!” all four adults say at once.

:::

Dinah has seen Helena stare down the barrel of a gun, unflinching, and then knock that motherfucking gun out of the hands of whoever was stupid enough to point it at her before methodically kicking their ass.

She’s seen Helena end a high speed motorcycle chase by hopping off of her motorcycle right before it goes sliding into some high octane chemicals and go up in a cloud of flame and ash – and walk away like it’s nothing.

She’s seen Helena pop a dislocated shoulder back in its socket, sew up her own injuries, sew up Dinah’s injuries, she’s sat nearly unflinching while Dinah fished a bullet out of her arm.

Somehow, somehow, a cough has Helena more rattled than all of those things combined.

“She’s fine,” Dinah says, rubbing circles on Helena’s arm.

“What if she’s not?” Helena says. She’s staring determinedly at the couch, where Cass is under a pile of blankets, with a thermometer in her mouth as they wait to see what it says. She’s been coughing all morning (she sounds horrible, and yes, Dinah’s heart plummeted too when she heard it, but Helena??? Helena is _freaking out)_

“Baby,” Dinah says softly, pressing a kiss to Helena’s temple. “It’s just a cough.”

Helena grunts in reply. The thermometer beeps and before Dinah can blink, her arms are empty because Helena is striding across the room, pulling the thermometer from Cass’s mouth.

“No fever,” Helena says. Her brow furrows as she says it. She leans down, pressing her hand to Cass’s forehead. When that seems to do her no good, she presses her lips there. Dinah’s heart swells.

She goes to stand by Helena.

“How’re you feeling, Cass?”

“Like shit, duh,” Cass says hoarsely, and Dinah rolls her eyes affectionately. Then Cass looks up at Dinah. “Can I stay home today?”

Dinah is about to answer, but Helena beats her to it. “Yes, of course you can.”

Cass looks surprised. Dinah was going to say the same thing, anyway.

“I’ll make some tea,” Dinah says softly. Helena stands up, squeezing her hands into fists, flexing them, and then starting all over again. Dinah knows she’s stressed, because she’s getting restless.

“I’ll–I’ll go out and buy some medicine,” she says as if she’s deciding it as she says it out loud.

Dinah kisses her cheek. “Thank you.”

Helena gives her one distracted nod and immediately leaves. It’s sweet, Dinah thinks, how worried about Cass Helena is.

Helena would argue with Dinah about it, but Helena is a good person, if a complicated one, and it’s one of many reasons Dinah loves her.

Dinah hasn’t told her yet. They’re working towards it, she thinks. She’s okay with that. She’s happy to be patient with Helena. And herself, if she’s being honest. It’s been a while since she’s let herself love like this, even if it feels pretty close to effortless most of the time.

She makes the tea with Cass and goes to sit with her, rubbing circles on her back as she coughs.

After nearly thirty minutes, the door to the warehouse slams open and Helena comes in carrying an ungodly number of bags (all reusable, but _still_ ) and she drops them on the floor as she starts to spread everything out on the coffee table.

“I um,” Helena says, “didn’t know what to get. So I got four different medicines.” She sets those on the table. “And soup. And more tea. And also Vick’s vaporub, because my mother used to put that on my chest as a child and it helped.”

Dinah watches the growing assortment of items and thinks Helena might have bought half of the pharmacy. “Are those five different bags of cough drops?” she asks.

Helena looks up at her. “There were so many different kinds…”

“Baby,” Dinah laughs. She grabs the medicine she recognizes best and turns to Cass, measuring out the little cup for her. “This is a little bit of overkill.”

Helena looks a little distressed. “I just. Wanted to help.”

“You did help,” Cass says sleepily. “Do help.”

“See?” Dinah says. She gets off of the couch with Cass’ empty mug of tea and pulls Helena into the kitchen with her.

“I did okay?” Helena asks.

Dinah puts the cup down and steps over to Helena, pushing her hand into her hair so she can turn her head and make Helena look right at her. “Yeah, H, you did. You did real good. Thank you.”

Helena nods, leans down to rest her head on Dinah’s shoulder which is only mildly amusing with the height difference.

Helena spends the rest of the day hovering by the couch, even when Cass is asleep. Cass pretends to be annoyed sometimes, but Dinah can see she really likes it.

:::

Helena, of course, catches the cold.

This time, Dinah gets to take care of her. Helena apologizes the whole time, even when she’s lost her voice, because of course she does, and Dinah just shakes her head.

It’s stupid, how much she loves this woman.

:::

The warehouse is different. Helena can smell it. It smells…chocolatey. Helena follows the scent into the kitchen to see Dinah placing bowls and spatulas into the sink.

“Hey,” Helena says, and is rewarded with Dinah smiling at her. “What is this?”

Dinah gestures vaguely around them. “Cass wanted brownies.”

“Cass is here?”

“Mhm,” Dinah says. “She and Renee are off somewhere, Cass finally pestered her into teaching her some moves. Her loss. Now _I_ get to lick the bowl.”

Helena likes the triumphant smirk on Dinah’s face, and she likes the sound of Dinah licking anything. But still…“Why would you lick the bowl?”

Dinah stares at her. “Brownie batter?”

Helena has had one brownie since she was nine (and very few before that, her parents were almost laughably traditionalist about the food in the house. Dessert was usually cannoli or tiramisu, or something else suitably Italian), and eating raw batter? That was absolutely not to be tolerated by her mother or her adoptive family in Sicily.

Before Helena knows what’s happening, Dinah has her thumb covered in brownie batter, and Helena, on instinct alone, wraps her lips around Dinah’s thumb, licking off the chocolate.

Dinah’s breath hitches and she steps closer. Helena lets go of her thumb with a _pop_. When Dinah looks at her, her eyes are dark.

“Good?” she breathes.

Helena nods. “Yeah.”

“You have some–” Dinah wraps a hand around the back of Helena’s neck, pulls her down and licks at Helena’s bottom lip.

“ _Dinah_ ,” she whimpers, but it’s cut off when Dinah kisses her. It’s slow and a little dirty, but that’s all it is.

Dinah pulls back after a moment, and they stand there in their bubble, staring at each other and Dinah is the first to break. She laughs. Helena smiles back at her. Dinah pecks her lips again before turning back to the mess of dishes.

“Wanna keep me company?” she asks.

Helena nods and falls in next to Dinah. When Cass comes into the kitchen later, following the smell of the fresh-out-of-the-oven brownies, she finds them standing side by side, washing the last of the bowls.

“Only one,” Dinah says.

“What?” Cass asks around a mouthful of brownie. “Why?”

“Cause Helena’s making dinner tonight.”

“So?”

Helena grunts and Dinah nudges Cass with her foot. “So, don’t ruin your appetite, okay?” Dinah says and rolls her eyes. She turns back to Helena and mouths _brat_ , even though she’s smiling.

“Okay,” Cass says and then disappears into the warehouse again.

“It’s not even Sunday,” Helena says to herself. She’s not fully sure when this became her life – the vigilantism, the domesticity that fills the rest of her days – but she likes it.

“Yeah, but Cass loves your cooking,” Dinah says. She bumps her shoulder against Helena’s. “And I do too.”

Loves it. Helena’s heart hammers in her chest. Loves. _Loves._

“I better get started, then.”

Tonight, when she gets to work, Dinah stays by her side and helps the whole time.

:::

Dinah didn’t expect it. The domesticity of it all. They’re vigilantes for fucks sake. It doesn’t exactly scream “cozy” or “comfortable”. But she _is_ comfortable.

She’s comfortable and she knows exactly why.

It’s Helena.

It’s Helena feeding her dinner, it’s curling into Helena’s side while they watch movies, it’s the two of them picking up Cass from school, it’s sleeping next to her, shaking her awake if there’s a nightmare, holding her tight. It’s the surety of charging into a gunfight side by side, knowing that they can read each other like a book, that they will always have each other’s back.

Whether they’re at home, knee deep in bad-guy blood or at some private school pretending to be Cass’s legal guardians, Dinah is _comfortable_ because Helena is by her side.

Fuck.

Dinah really needs to tell her.

It’s like five am, but the bed is shifting because Helena is getting ready for her workout and Dinah usually hates the chill that follows when Helena leaves but now it feels unbearable. Normally she’d just grab the blankets and curl up and go back to sleep but today she slides her hand out from under the sheets and grabs Helena’s wrist.

“I didn’t mean to wake–”

“I love you,” Dinah says, her voice still thick with sleep.

Helena goes shock-still.

She’s staring at Dinah with this mix of intensity and surprise and softness and Dinah isn’t even scared saying those words, because for the first time in her life, she knows the person she’s saying them to loves her back.

“You–what?” Helena asks. Dinah curls in closer, presses a kiss to Helena’s hand because she’s too sleepy to lean up any higher.

“I love you.”

She closes her eyes, content to let Helena go to her workout now that she's said the words, but she doesn’t get the chance because all of a sudden there’s a body pressing down into hers and she feels lips on her neck, her jaw, her cheek.

Her eyes flutter open and Helena is on top of her, still in her pajamas, with bedhead, and god, she’s _smiling_.

Dinah laughs, but Helena ducks down to kiss her, and Dinah cuts the giggle short so she can lick up into Helena’s mouth.

Helena pulls back after a moment, resting their foreheads together.

“I love you, too,” she says.

Dinah skims her hands up Helena’s sides. “Mmm,” she says. “Then stay. Let’s snuggle.”

Helena lets out a small, breathy laugh, but she nods, rolling off of Dinah and settling under the covers, pulling Dinah into her.

They have to get up in a few hours. Helena will clean her bolts and haul out a target for practice, Dinah’s got a few exercises to run through, Renee’s got a lead on a new cartel. Cass has a math test she’s dreading and there’s some awful, pretentious, charity auction the school is hosting in a few weeks.

But if Dinah gets to dress up with Helena and call Helena her wife for a few hours before they come home, if they get to build this thing together, work through this crazy life together well…

None of it seems all that bad.


End file.
